


Sputnik

by TheAwfulDodger



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes is not bothered at all, Bucky Barnes's Trigger Words, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Podfic Welcome, Protective Steve Rogers, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, okay maybe a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwfulDodger/pseuds/TheAwfulDodger
Summary: 'One minute they’re running, side by side, Bucky matching Steve’s pace easily, and the next minute, Bucky drops like a bag of bricks. It isn’t pretty, it’s not like the asphalt in front of the little news stand cushioned Bucky’s fall.'Turns out Shuri didn't remove ALL the trigger words. Five times Bucky is accidentally triggered, plus the one time he wasn't.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	Sputnik

**1.**

It’s the asscrack of dawn, and they’re out for their morning run in Central Park when it happens for the first time. One minute they’re running, side by side, Bucky matching Steve’s pace easily, and the next minute, Bucky drops like a bag of bricks. It takes Steve almost two strides before he realises that Bucky is no longer at his side. He looks over his shoulder and almost trips himself. Bucky is face down on the pavement, motionless. Steve stops in his tracks and dashes back over, his first instinct to cover Bucky’s body with his own to protect him from their unknown assailant.

He checks the surrounding area for a gunman, but there’s nobody there. His hands frantically check Bucky over, looking for tranquilizer darts or bullet holes, but there’s nothing there. Bucky’s arms are squashed underneath his body, he didn’t even break his fall when he went down. Steve rolls him over onto his back and checks again, still not finding any bullet holes. The park around them is silent, just the commercials playing on the radio in the newsstand, wind in the trees and the pigeons cooing.

It isn’t pretty, it’s not like the asphalt in front of the little newsstand cushioned Bucky’s fall. He’s bleeding from where his teeth split his lip, his nose is broken and bloody and most of his chin and forehead have abrasions from the cheese grater action of the pavement. He’s also very much out cold, limbs like spaghetti and breathing shallowly.

Steve taps Bucky’s cheek as he once again checks the immediate area for hostiles.

“Buck. Bucky.” he urges, and bleary blue eyes open slowly, blinking up at Steve before wincing. Steve places a bear paw of a hand in the middle of Bucky’s chest to stop him from trying to sit up.

“Motherfucker” Bucky groans, and he turns his head to the side to spit out a mouthful of blood. He sounds a little slurred and drunk, which makes Steve check his pupils. They’re both dilated, but at least they’re the same size. He files it away for later.

“Easy... you took a nasty tumble there, pal.” Steve says, removing his hand and letting Bucky sit up slowly. Bucky spits out another glob of bloody saliva. The other early-morning runners in the park ignore them in true New Yorker fashion, passing around the spot where Steve is crouched over Bucky’s prone form. The radio in the newsstand starts playing the 7 am news and the pigeons keep cooing. Bucky gingerly touches his own jaw, looking dazed and stunned as his fingers map out the damage.

“What the fuck...” he grates, taking the hand that Steve offers to help him up. He rises to his feet unsteadily, leans on Steve and cautiously checks the abrasions on his knees and elbows. Steve winces in sympathy as he sees Bucky’s knees and elbows.

“Come on, Buck, let’s go home.”

**2.**

After a shower and a large plate of bacon and eggs on toast, Bucky’s all but forgotten his faceplant in the park. Steve set his nose for him and most of the abrasions have already healed. His split lip now sports a thick scab, which will probably fall off in an hour or so. He’s on the couch in their living room, dressed in his comfiest pair of washed out jeans, some slightly misshapen socks that he knitted himself and a henley on top, wet hair twisted into a little bun on top of his head. It’s almost nine, and Sam will be over for coffee in a little while.

Bucky has been making it a point that Sam is very much ‘Steve’s friend’, and while they’re civil enough to each other, he usually makes himself scarce when Sam comes over. He’s got his book and his knitting to keep him occupied and he’ll go hang out in the Avengers common room for a little bit, maybe shoot the shit with Clint. See if he can beat his own highscore with those neat little throwing hatchets Thor brought with him from Asgard. Steve can have his Sam-time.

Steve is in the kitchen, rummaging around and doing whatever-he-does before Sam arrives. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he’s baking Sam cookies. Bucky flips on the tv, eager to catch the nine o’clock news before he goes.

“Gonna watch the news and then I’m off, Rogers, so you and Wilson can get your hanky-panky on!” he shouts in the general direction of the kitchen, just to be obnoxious because he knows Steve can hear him just fine and there’s no need to shout.

“You know as well as I do that it’s not like that! Want coffee before you go?” Steve asks from the kitchen. There’s no answer from the living room, just the tail-end of the block of commercials before the morning news starts. Steve frowns when there’s no smart-ass reply, and when he looks over, Bucky seems to be staring up at the ceiling except his eyes are closed. His head is thrown back against the back of the couch, body lax and mouth open.

“...Buck?” Steve questions, and he makes his way over, tea towel still in his hands. “Bucky?” There’s no answer, but Bucky was awake and shouting at him a second ago, so this unnatural stillness is a little unnerving. Steve slings the tea towel over his shoulder and claps his hand loudly, but Bucky doesn’t move a muscle, where something like that would normally trigger his fighting reflexes. Steve gets a little worried, sees Bucky lying face down on the asphalt again, and grabs Bucky’s right shoulder, giving it a little shake.

“Bucky.” he snaps, and sure enough, Bucky’s eyes open, hazy and disoriented at first but snapping to alert and irritated when he finds Steve hovering over him.

“What.” he grouses, shrugging Steve’s hand off his shoulder in an irritated gesture. He looks around like he’s not quite sure what happened. The morning news starts on the tv, blonde news anchor greeting the audience before continuing to the first big news item of the day.

“Y’okay there Buck?” Steve questions, moving his hand to Bucky’s forehead to feel his temperature and check his pupils. Sure enough, they are both dilated again, the blue just a slim ring around the black of his pupil. “You went away there for a second.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky answers noncommittally, sighing when he catches Steve’s doubtful gaze. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’m fine.” Steve pulls his hand back from Bucky’s forehead and gives him a smile.

“If you say so. But if it happens again, we’re having it checked out. Better safe than sorry.”

**3.**

Bucky and Clint spend the morning and quite a bit of the afternoon playing around with the little throwing hatchets from Asgard. They both beat their own personal records several times over, and Clint manages to keep all his fingers and all his toes in the process. All in all, a great success.

They’re in the common room, grabbing drinks and still clowning around when it happens again. Clint is half buried in the fridge, digging around for something to drink and keeping up a monologue while Bucky is on his way to the couch with a can of frappuccino milkshake.

“—but the thing with the apple, that was pure high grade William Tell! Ooh hello there, new Sputnik coke!” Clint straightens up when he hears the thump, can of the brand-new Coca Cola Sputnik in his hand. He looks over and there’s Bucky, crumpled on the floor.

“I told you to tie your laces, dumbass!” Clint laughs, but he falls silent when Bucky stays on the floor and doesn’t move.

“Bucky?” Clint questions, putting the white can of Coca Cola back in the fridge and closing the door.

“I swear, if this is some kind of practical joke I’m duct-taping you to the ceiling!” Clint threatens as he approaches the tangle of limbs that is Bucky. The frappuccino milkshake is spilling onto Tony’s snow white carpet in a caramel coloured smear that soaks Bucky’s hair and probably his cheek where it is resting on the floor. Clint cautiously shakes Bucky’s unlaced combat boot, which makes his entire leg shake as his body is slack and relaxed. His eyes are closed and it’s obvious that he’s out for the count.

“If you don’t wake up I’m drawing a penis on your face.” Clint threatens again, giving Bucky’s boot another shake. It feels a little like poking a tiger with a stick, and he’s not really prepared to get any closer.

“JARVIS, a little help here?”

“Captain Rogers is on his way.” JARVIS supplies helpfully, and moments later, Steve bursts into the common room, a little wild eyed, and Sam is hot on his heels. He rushes over and falls to his knees next to Bucky’s still form, and things start moving really fast from there.

**4.**

It’s late afternoon and Bucky is sitting on a stool in Tony’s lab. He’s bare chested, his shirt currently being used as a stress ball by Steve. Bucky’s left arm is resting on the workbench next to him, and Tony is running a scanner over it for the umpteenth time. Steve is fidgeting with a seam of Bucky’s shirt, looking worried, while Tony is muttering to himself and JARVIS alternately. Bucky himself is just still and quiet, almost detached, eyes moving from his arm, to Tony, to the scanner and back.

“...no, no, no. I checked that. I checked that. Show me the diagram again, JARVIS.” Tony demands, and JARVIS dutifully projects the neural connections between Bucky’s arm and brain again. Tony starts flipping the holographic diagram around once again, running his hands through his hair and getting more and more frustrated.

There is dried frappuccino in Bucky’s hair, turning it into a sticky clumpy mess, and his stomach is starting to growl. They’ve been here for at least two hours now, Bucky had been mortified when Steve insisted on carrying him to the lab. So far, Tony hasn’t been able to find anything wrong with the arm, apart from the fact that _obviously_ something is short circuiting and frying the arm’s neural connection, making Bucky drop where he stands like a ton of bricks. It’s a big mystery.

Bucky bites his lower lip, running his tongue over the freshly healed spot where the scab from his fall this morning was. He wonders how much longer this is going to take, because sitting in the lab is making him antsy. He’s taking slow, deliberate breaths to keep the panic at bay, but it’s been getting harder the longer this drags on.

Right across from where Bucky is sitting is the connecting door to Bruce’s workshop, and when Bruce slides it open to see how Tony is doing, Bucky can faintly hear the radio playing in Bruce’s lab. It’s almost too soft for even his serum-enhanced ears, jangly and cheerful with bells and cymbals and not like western music at all, but it’s calming and gives Bucky something else to focus on.

“Find anything yet?” Bruce questions, making Tony huff with frustration, giving the hologram another quick spin. Bruce hmmm’s and reaches out for the hologram, stopping the spinning and zooming in on a detail. The reedy voice of the female singer on Bruce’s radio makes way for a commercial. Steve steps up behind him and brackets him with his bulk. Bucky stops paying attention to his surroundings and lets himself bask in the safety of _Steve_ for a beat.

“...creamy like the milky way! Get your limited edition Coca Cola Sputnik now!” The last thing he feels before the lights go out are Steve’s big, muscular arms wrapping around him.

**5.**

The hospital gown is just adding insult to injury. Bucky is sitting on a medical examination table in a private examination room in the medlab, bare ass planted on the paper covered surface, bare legs dangling down. The hospital gown doesn’t cover much of anything, and he cannot help pulling at it, trying to at least cover his knees. Every time he pulls it down in the front, it rises up and opens in the back. It’s maddening and he feels like his face is beet red but there’s no way to check.

Steve hasn’t been more than a foot or so away since Bucky collapsed in Tony’s lab, making sure that Bucky won’t smash his head open on anything when he has one of these weird narcoleptic episodes. It’s getting on Bucky’s nerves a little, he likes his personal space these days. But he must admit it’s kind of nice too, having Steve there to distract him while Dr. Cho was drawing his blood, stroking his back and murmuring that he was doing good.

Doctor Cho wanted Bucky to lie down, but he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to be prone on his back, especially not while just in this stupid-ass gown. To be honest, he feels like running, and they only just came in. Doctor Cho is very friendly, but the whole ambiance of the medlab brings back too many bad memories, and it took all his willpower to sit still for her initial examination and the bloodwork.

Steve, actual saint and superhero that he is, knows this and made sure he stayed put in the gentlest way possible. Bucky’s starting to become very hungry, not having had any lunch and it’s starting to get close to dinner time now. He’s pretty certain that Steve is hungry too, because he can hear Steve’s stomach growl from where he is sitting. Bucky swings his legs a little and is about to mention it when the door to the room they’re in opens.

He was expecting Cho with test results, but his nose tells him it’s dinner before he can see anyone. Natasha is there, big bag of take-out in hand. He resists the urge to make grabby hands, but his stomach voices its protest quite clearly.

“Hey boys... heard you were stuck here...” she teases. The relief on Steve’s face at the sight of the bag of food makes Bucky laugh. Steve takes the bag from Natasha’s hands and sets it down on the counter, starts to take cardboard boxes out of it as Natasha pulls up a stool.

“Thanks Natasha, you're a lifesaver!” Steve states happily, handing Bucky a pair of chopsticks. Natasha grabs the remote of the tv that’s in the corner and up against the ceiling. She turns it on and flips to CNN as Steve starts distributing the boxes of take-out between the three of them.

“---anniversary of the ISS, The International Space Station. Several companies have released special merchandise to commemorate this moment in history---“ the news anchor reads as Bucky accepts a box of Kung Pao chicken and starts to dig in with a happy noise. “---seems to be cashing in with the launch of their international collaboration with Baikal, Coca Cola Sputnik and Baikal Explorer, a creamy carbonated—“

The box of Kung Pao chicken lands in his lap as Bucky’s body goes slack, going ass over teakettle and toppling backwards before Steve has the time to grab him. He hits his head against the wall as his unconscious body slides between the examination table and the wall, going down in a tangle of limbs. He crashes head first, Kung Pao chicken strewn everywhere, bare ass and balls on show as the open backed gown slides up to puddle around his chest.

Steve chokes on his mouthful of noodles as he jumps up and flings the table aside to get to Bucky, blushing bright red at the sight of Bucky’s upturned rump and exposed genitals. Natasha narrows her eyes at the tv before grabbing the remote to turn it off while Steve tries to save Bucky’s dignity. He tries to pull Bucky’s hospital gown down over his bare ass but gives up after a second, opting instead to carefully lift Bucky’s unresponsive form from the floor with a crestfallen look on his face.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Natasha comments, voice just this side of smug.

**+1**

“What?”

They are home, thank Heaven they are home and they didn’t make him stay at the medlab. He’s on the couch, in his own extremely comfy fluffy pj’s, and there is still dried frappuccino milkshake in his hair. The take-out that Natasha brought them in the medlab is on the coffee table in front of him, reheated in the microwave, and they’re finally about to have dinner. Steve’s mouth is moving again, punk doesn’t seem to realise that Bucky can’t hear a word he’s saying.

“WHAT???” He asks again, lifting a hand to the headphones, ready to pull one of the ear cups off to hear what Steve is trying to say. Steve blanches and his big paw comes down over Bucky’s, pushing the ear cup back over his ear. They are the fancy kind of headphones, courtesy of Stark, noise cancelling and wireless. JARVIS is playing him an assortment of swing and jazz music, and Bucky can’t hear a thing over it.

Steve shakes his head no and points at the boxes of food. For good measure he mimes eating, and Bucky rolls his eyes. There’s a lump the size of a goose egg on his forehead where he banged his head on the floor as he fell off the table in the medlab, and a matching lump on the back of his head from hitting the wall on his way down.

“YES MOM!” He says, louder than he means to, making Steve roll his eyes in turn. Steve’s mouth moves again, but he’s looking up at the ceiling so he must be talking to JARVIS. Bucky grabs a random box and starts to dig in, stuffing his mouth full of food. Finally!

JARVIS’ voice comes from his headphones, the volume of the music lowered slightly as he speaks. Steve has his phone in hand and is dialling a number.

“Captain Rogers is contacting Miss Shuri.” JARVIS states before turning the music back up. Bucky nods and holds up his thumb to Steve, who now has the phone at his ear. It makes sense, as Shuri had been the one to successfully remove the other triggers from his brain while he was in Wakanda. He’s known Steve long enough to make an educated guess about the way the conversation he’s having with Shuri is going. Steve looks a little unsure, keeps glancing over at Bucky, who stares right back. Bucky swallows his mouth full of rice.

“You can say it, I can’t hear a thing.” Bucky says, still a little too loud. Steve grimaces but makes the ‘ok’ hand signal as he’s talking to Shuri. Bucky watches him say The Word, watches Steve’s lips form The Word and grins to himself as nothing happens. He stuffs a celebratory spring roll in his mouth and holds up a thumb.

“Nope, can’t hear a thing!”

**Author's Note:**

> Yesterday, December 5th 2020, the word Sputnik was all over the news, because the Russians presented their Sputnik-V vaccine. I kept hearing Sputnik all day, everywhere, on the tv and the radio and even online. It made me think of the inconvenience it would be for Bucky if he wasn't completely trigger-word-free, because Sputnik is a trigger words they used in the comics to render him unconscious. I thought it was a funny idea to have Bucky just keeling over unexpectedly all the time. After a little encouragement from the HTP Discord server, I decided to sit down and write it. I hope this will bring a smile to your face as well in this difficult period in time. Please stay safe and healthy!
> 
> Fun facts: Sputnik not only the first Russian satellite, it's also the name of an oldfashioned DIY soda-based drink, which is made by mixing full fat cream, sugar and a fizzy drink of your choice. After someone suggested using the word Sputnik for a drink instead of a vaccine in the fic to keep it light hearted, I decided that a creamy version of cola would be horribly fitting.


End file.
